


If It Happens One More Time ('More Than Adequate' Remix)

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bathroom Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Chess, Coming Out, Erik's wife is horrible, M/M, No major characters actually cheat, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles' friend Erik seems to be completely unaware that he is the hottest thing on two legs. When Charles realizes that Erik's feelings of inadequacy are due to his controlling and emotionally abusive wife, Charles is conflicted. It doesn't make Charles' conundrum any easier when Erik comes out to him as bisexual.  (Remix of Chapter 4 of listerinezero's 'Collected Ficlets': 'More Than Adequate')</p>
<p>Beta'd by the wonderful <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/ingrates/pseuds/ingrates">ingrates</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Happens One More Time ('More Than Adequate' Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [listerinezero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listerinezero/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Collected Ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405579) by [listerinezero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listerinezero/pseuds/listerinezero). 



Charles and Erik met in a community chess club that met at a rec center. They joined coincidentally around the same time, and they had only been members for a few weeks before they both decided that they were far too good at the game to be constantly paired with lesser opponents when they could just be playing each other. So they staged a two man coup (that they didn't tell anyone in the chess club about) and started meeting at a bar at the same time that they used to meet in chess club, Monday evenings at 7pm. Because if anything made chess better than playing against a really challenging opponent, they both agreed, it was the addition of alcohol.

For Charles' part, he not only enjoyed playing chess with Erik, but also looking at him. The man was gorgeous. Charles knew Erik was an engineer by trade, but thought that he could have easily have been a model or an actor if he had chosen. 

About a month after The Great Chess Coup, as they liked to call it, Charles received a text and responded to it with a small, pleased smile. Erik saw Charles receive the text and casually asked, "Girlfriend?" 

"Boyfriend, actually," Charles said with a smile. Erik had mentioned his wife Magda a couple weeks before when Charles had asked about his wedding ring. 

Erik blinked at Charles in surprise. "Boyfriend? Are you gay?"

"Yes," Charles said, raising his eyebrows. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, of course not," Erik said quickly. "It's just—I had no idea! I mean, you don't seem..." He waved his hand in the air and then snatched it back quickly and blushed when he realized it looked like he was miming something limp-wristed. Charles' eyebrows shot up even higher. 

"I don't seem...?" Charles prompted, starting to enjoy seeing Erik squirm. 

"I mean, I...I just never pictured you with a man." Erik was looking at Charles like he was seeing some kind of revelation. 

Charles blinked. "Is that so?" Erik hadn't looked away from Charles, when he abruptly did with an awkward laugh. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "My wife always tells me I have terrible gaydar." He hesitated. "I can say gaydar, right?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Everyone says gaydar, Erik."

Erik smiled a big, gorgeous, and slightly embarrassed smile. "I'm really messing this up, aren't I?"

Charles laughed. "No, not at all. But you can relax. And tell your wife she doesn't have anything to worry about."

Erik's brow furrowed even though the smile stayed on his face. "What would she be worried about?"

"Ah, well, if she thinks I'm, ah, pursuing you or something," Charles said, feeling his cheeks turn red. 

Erik scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah, as if." 

"I'm sure you are a faithful and devoted husband," Charles said diplomatically. 

Erik gave Charles a rueful look. "Well, yeah, but also I'm sure _you_ wouldn't want someone like _me_ in a million years." Erik shrugged and smiled, and moved his focus to the chess board. 

Charles felt a little less amused and more confused. He didn't say anything for a while and nursed his drink while they played silently, but he was off his game a little, and Erik won fairly easily. "Why did you say that, earlier?" Charles asked abruptly, after he tipped his king. "That I wouldn't want _someone like you_ in a million years. What did you mean by that?"

Erik's eyes got large. "Oh, nothing against you! I mean you are...well, I'm sure you know what you are, and I'm just—" Erik held his hands open in supplication. "I'm just an average-looking, boring guy."

Charles' mouth was open in surprise. Erik was undeniably _model-gorgeous._ He turned heads everytime he walked into a room. And he thought he was average-looking?

"Do you ever look in a mirror?" Charles said in disbelief. 

Erik laughed and shook his head at Charles—the cumulative effect of which was that he looked so gorgeous Charles got a flutter in his stomach. "I see. You think if you flatter me I'll go easier on you at chess."

"Erik," Charles said seriously. "You are one of the best-looking men I've ever met."

Erik lost his smile slowly. He cleared his throat. "Don't. Don't do that."

"I'm not hitting on you," Charles said seriously. "I'm really not. I'm just confused that you think you're...average-looking? Are you just being modest?"

Erik looked away. "No. I'm just fortunate enough to have a partner who is honest with me."

Charles' mouth tried to talk for a few moments before words actually came out. "Your wife? Magda?"

Erik took a sip of his drink, nodding. "The truth hurts sometimes, but I'd rather someone be straight with me than blow smoke up my ass." He realized his word choice and hastily added, "I didn't mean—"

Charles waved away Erik's explanation. "I know what you meant. But if your wife isn't telling you that you're gorgeous, Erik, she is lying to you."

Erik looked at Charles, and they locked gazes for several minutes before Erik abruptly inhaled. "Okay. Wow. I should probably be going."

Charles tried for a smile, but it felt a little forced. "Same time next week?" He wished he sounded a little less plaintive. 

"Yes, of course," Erik said. He stood and put his jacket and fedora on. He looked down at Charles for a moment before reaching a hand to squeeze his shoulder. "Next week."

As soon as he left, Charles slumped and put his face in his hand. He had definitely pushed too hard on the whole ‘attractive’ matter, he thought, but it seemed like a crime that Erik didn't know how hot he was. "Which really just makes him hotter," Charles muttered, trying to get one last sip out of his glass, which was mostly alcohol-flavored ice by that point. 

He called his sister on his walk home, because he knew she was just getting out of class at that time. "Raven. I have a married straight male friend who is gorgeous but has no idea, because his wife tells him he's not."

"Kidnap him," she said promptly. "Wait, are you talking about chess guy?" Raven had picked Charles up one Monday evening when it had been raining and she had been briefly introduced to Erik.

"Yes," Charles confirmed with a sigh. 

"No, but, he really is gorgeous."

_"Hello,"_ Charles said, rolling his eyes. 

"He _has_ to know! No one can look that good and not know."

"I swear, Raven, he doesn't."

"Well. That's probably very charming. Unfortunately for you, he's straight and married."

"Right," Charles said, heaving the biggest sigh anyone had ever heaved. He could always count on Raven to keep him grounded. "Thanks."

"Anytime," she said cheerfully.

**

A week later, when Erik arrived at the bar for their weekly chess game, he looked—different. He was wearing a magenta button-down shirt and the top two buttons were open. He was clean-shaven, and he didn't have his customary fedora with him. 

He looked gorgeous. In fact, Charles watched as two different women stopped him on his way across the room towards Charles. Erik smiled but shook his head politely at both ladies, smiling and holding up the hand on which he wore his wedding ring. 

Charles took a quick sip of his drink. He had resolved not to embarrass Erik this time by insisting that Erik was good-looking if he didn't believe it. He greeted his friend with a smile, and they conducted their first game mostly in silence. Erik was drinking faster than usual, Charles couldn't help but notice. They both generally walked home—the fact that the bar was walking distance for both of them was one of the reasons they had chosen that bar for the Great Chess Coup—the other main reason was because it has a chess board with all the pieces—but regardless of whether or not he had to drive, Erik usually had no more than two drinks during which they would usually play three or four games. Tonight, he was halfway through his second drink at the end of their first game, and a very attractive flush was high on his cheeks. 

Charles was certainly not going to comment on it. 

Erik was also biting his lip a lot and fidgeting, which wasn't like him at all. "Is everything alright?" Charles inquired the second time Erik accidentally knocked a chess piece off the board. 

"Of course," Erik said with a distracted smile. 

Charles checkmated him three minutes later. Erik puffed his cheeks and exhaled in frustration. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Charles tried again. 

Erik pushed his hair behind his ear. "I'm just—I mean—I look okay today, right?"

Charles literally bit his tongue for a moment before he replied, "You look fine."

"I got this shirt as a gift from my sister a couple of years ago, and I've never worn it," Erik said, staring at the tumbler full of ice in his hands. "This morning I thought—why not? I usually wear white or blue or gray shirts to work, but there's no dress code against brighter colors. And Magda...she...laughed. At me. She told me I looked like a clown."

Charles’ jaw literally fell open. "A _clown?_ That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." 

"She told me that. She said I was wearing the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen." Erik mumbled the words. 

Charles' head snapped up. "That is _not_ what I said." 

Erik blinked at Charles in surprise. 

"I said, calling you a clown for wearing that shirt is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Charles clarified.

Erik looked down at his shirt. "Well, maybe it looked more clown-like with the tie. I spilled mustard on it at lunch, so I took it off."

"What color was the tie? Chartreuse polkadots?"

Erik snorted a laugh at the mental image. "It was dark blue." 

"Sounds lovely."

Erik snapped his eyes to Charles, checking to see if he was being sarcastic. 

Charles was starting to get a very ugly picture of Erik's relationship with Magda. He finished his drink in one gulp. "That shirt, Erik, is actually quite fetching on you. I'm going to get another drink. Would you like one?"

Erik looked at Charles with a furrowed brow and nodded distractedly. There was no need for Erik to tell Charles what he wanted, since he always got a dirty vodka martini. 

But he hardly ever got three of them in one night. 

When Charles returned with Erik's drink, Erik said, "Okay. Hypothetically. If you didn't know me and I were in gay bar, wearing this shirt, and not wearing a wedding ring...would you want to...talk to me?"

_Somebody kill me,_ Charles begged the universe, but he was regretfully still alive a few seconds later. Erik was looking at him with wide, earnest eyes that looked greener than usual, contrasted against his magenta shirt. "Yes, Erik." He knew he sounded patronizing, but the alternative—making Erik truly understand how attractive Charles found him—was worse. 

"Can we...I mean, would you want to...go to one?"

"Go to one what?" Charles said blankly. 

Erik bit his lip. "A gay bar."

Charles' jaw dropped. "I don't—I mean—are you sure?"

Erik frowned and looked down. "To be honest, I'm not sure of anything." 

Charles hesitated. His heart started pounding as he contemplated what Erik might be trying to communicate to him. Part of him wanted to offer to take Erik to a gay bar and part of him felt that would overwhelm the man. "Well, if you're not sure, do you want...to go someplace quieter? Just to talk?" 

Erik looked surprised that that would even be an option. "Like where?"

"We can just for a walk, if you like," Charles said. 

It was spring in New York, and the air was a very comfortable temperature; cool, but not cold enough to require a coat. They walked in companionable silence for about a block before Charles cleared his throat. 

"Is everything okay at home?" Charles asked when Erik didn't seem inclined to start talking. 

"I...think so," Erik said slowly. "Honestly, I'm...not really sure sometimes. Magda is the only person I've ever been with, so I don't really have anything to compare us to."

Charles forced himself not to react. "She's the only long-term relationship you've ever had?"

"She's the only relationship, period."

"That's—wow." Charles had already had two boyfriends that year, and it was only April. "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"Thirty-two," Erik replied. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," Charles replied. "That's—you—I mean, _how?"_

Erik laughed and looked at Charles, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. "We started dating in high school and just never broke up. We had a pregnancy scare in college and decided to get married before breaking the news to our parents...and then, realized she wasn't pregnant after all." 

"I know it's not my place, Erik—" _it's really not, Charles, what are you doing,_ "—but telling you you looked like a clown in that shirt is both untrue and, if I'm to be honest, kind of cruel."

"Well, truth is subjective; she's entitled to her own opinion," Erik said reasonably. 

"Mmm. Okay. Would _you_ say that to anyone, though?" Charles asked. 

Erik stopped walking. Charles took a couple steps before he realized that Erik wasn't beside him anymore. 

"No," Erik said, his eyes moving like he was working something out. "No, I wouldn't say it even if I thought it."

"That's why I said her comment was cruel," Charles said softly. "And—while I assure you, I do know the difference between fact and opinion, I want you to know that it is an unassailable _fact_ that you are drop-dead gorgeous."

Erik grinned at Charles and looked almost shy. "That's an opinion," he said accusingly, although he was still smiling. His smile faded slowly as he started walking again. Charles matched his stride once he was back at his side.. "You really do think that, don't you?" The air became charged with an almost electrical energy as he pinned Charles with his gaze.

"It's not just me," Charles said quickly. _He's married, he's married, he's married._ "Just tonight, two women tried to get your attention, and I'm sure you get phone numbers without even asking for them."

"Well, that's just, I mean, that's just how women are," Erik said, clearing his throat. "They like me because I'm tall."

"Um," Charles said. "So that's what you think?"

"Magda says—oh. Huh. Well, anyway, that's what Magda says."

"Does your wife ever make you feel good?" Charles asked gently, knowing he must be toeing the line. 

"Well, of course," Erik said, his face earnest. "I mean, I fuck up a lot, but on those weeks when she doesn't have to clean up my messes, then we...you know." 

Charles guessed that 'you know' was sex, but he couldn't be sure because everything about Erik's relationship seemed wrong to him. "What do you mean, you fuck up a lot? What messes?"

"Well, it's a lot to balance, keeping the house clean and the laundry and dishes done," Erik said defensively. "Also, I get up an hour before her to make her breakfast. She doesn't cook, and I don't want her to go hungry."

"You do—all of that?" Charles asked in disbelief. "And you work full-time?"

Erik bristled. "What, is that not manly enough? I wouldn't have thought _you_ of all people would insist on traditional gender roles."

"I—don't—what? No, Erik that's not—" Charles rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. "Forget I said anything. If it works for you, it works for you."

Erik studied Charles' face in the moonlight for a moment. "I'm sorry. I guess it does sound weird when I say it all out loud; it sounds a lot stranger to say it than it feels to live it."

"I can understand that," Charles said gently. "You know, if you ever need to talk to anyone, Erik, you can talk to me. I hope you consider me a friend."

"I do!" Erik said. "Definitely. I really like—Monday nights."

"Me too," Charles said with a smile. 

They had reached the point where Erik needed to turn, and he gave Charles a quick but warm hug before he said goodnight and walked off. _I've been upgraded from the shoulder squeeze,_ Charles thought with a sort of amused pleasure. 

Charles called Raven the moment Erik was out of his sight and relayed to her what Erik had said about the division of work in the Lehnsherr household. "I’m beginning to think it's borderline abusive, Raven."

"WHY AM I NOT MARRIED TO HIM," Raven yelled. "Whoops, sorry, just had to get that out. Yeah, his wife sounds like an asshat, I guess. And the whole gay bar thing—was he trying to tell you something?"

Charles ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I don't know. But I swear to god, Raven, if I hear about his wife being an asshole to him again...I swear I'm going to do something about it."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I have no idea," Charles replied honestly. 

**

The next week, Erik was back to wearing a white shirt and gray tie and his slightly battered fedora again. Charles didn't comment on it, and they played chess as usual, although there was a peculiar tension between them. 

Charles won the first game easily, so, per their system, Erik bought him his next drink. Charles raised his eyebrows when he saw that Erik brought him a double. He gave Erik a pointed inquisitive look. 

"We always talk about me," Erik said, gesturing towards the drink as if his words were an explanation for the stronger-than-usual drink. "I want to know about—you. You have a boyfriend, don't you?"

Charles coughed. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking." He felt a blush rising on his cheeks and tried to will it away. 

"What does that mean?" Erik asked guilelessly. 

"My...boyfriend, Scott, is, um, well, he's busy a lot. And we don't get to see a lot of each other."

Erik nodded. "How did you meet?"

Charles really wanted to change the subject. "In a bar. Oh! Do you remember my sister? I thought you'd be interested to know that she agrees with me. About you being gorgeous, I mean."

Erik looked intrigued for a moment before he abruptly laughed. "You're trying to deflect! Why don't you want to talk about your boyfriend?"

"It's just..." Charles looked down at his hands, playing with a bar napkin. "Scott and I aren't serious, or anything. We've only been seeing each other a month or so."

"Oh." Erik considered that for a moment. "So...you met me about the same time as him."

"Yes," Charles said, not quite sure where Erik was going with this. He was a little self conscious about his relationship with Scott because he was borderline not a boyfriend at all; Scott was supposed to have been a one-night stand, but they'd had a surprisingly good time and so had seen each other several times since then...and Charles was slowly realizing that the good time had been a fluke. Scott was nice but a little too predictable for Charles' tastes, and Charles was pretty sure that Scott was ready to move on from him as well.

"You haven't said much about him," Erik persisted. 

Charles sighed. "Well, we're probably going to break up soon," he admitted, glancing up at Erik. He was expecting an expression of sympathy, but Erik looked...pleased? He was smiling at his drink. 

"Does that make you happy for some reason?" Charles asked. He cocked his head to the side and gave Erik a flirty grin. 

"Well, ah." Erik was staring at Charles' lips across the table. He actually looked like he'd zoned out a bit. Charles ran his tongue across his lips, and Erik's eyes got wider for a moment before he snapped his gaze back to Charles' eyes and blushed. "Um. That's good. I guess I just think it's better to split up before you've been intimate with someone."

"Been intimate?" Charles repeated. He blinked a couple times. "Do you mean have sex? Because we certainly have had sex." 

Charles was amused at Erik's mortified expression. "Did I shock you?" Charles asked quietly. His amusement started to fade as he thought about what Erik must be thinking. _He must think I’m a slut._

"No," Erik said slowly. "I'm...well...I guess a part of me is jealous that you get to experience things that I don't."

"Like sex with men?" Charles asked, jokingly, grinning again. 

"Yes," Erik said, looking Charles in the eye. 

Charles' eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. He blinked a few times before realizing that he should say something. "Erik. Wow...I...don't know what to say." 

Erik looked down and chewed on his lip nervously. "I've never told anyone," he admitted. "I mean, it doesn't even really matter, because I’m sure there is no man who would want me, even if I weren't married."

"Goddammit!" Charles hit the table with a flat hand. He was surprised at the sudden rush of anger in himself, and Erik looked startled too. "What does it take to get through to you, Erik? Has 'Magda' poisoned your mind _that_ badly?"

"Careful," Erik said, his voice low. "That's my wife you’re talking about."

_You mean your abuser?_ It was on the tip of Charles' tongue, but he managed not to say it. Instead he swallowed and pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

They were both silent for a moment while a server was cleaning the table next to them.

"So," Erik said when the server had moved on. He took a deep breath. "I guess I'm...bisexual? For a long time I was confused about it because I’m still attracted to women. But men...yes. So." Erik shot Charles a worried glance. "Is this TMI? I feel a little like I'm imposing by telling you this."

Charles reached his hand out and put it over Erik's. "No, Erik, it's not TMI. When I told you you could talk to me I meant it. I'm your friend." 

Erik was staring at Charles' hand. "My friend," he said slowly. 

"Yes. Just your friend," Charles added hastily, taking his hand back. Regardless of whether or not Erik was attracted to Charles—and that was something Charles was beginning to suspect—Erik was still married. 

"Of course," Erik said immediately. "Anyway, you have a boyfriend."

Scott was the last thing on Charles’ mind, actually. "Right," he said weakly. 

"I was thinking..." Erik was looking at Charles' lips again. "Muggo will be out of town this weekend. And I was thinking that I'd like to go to a gay bar. Just to...see. What it's like."

"Muggo?" Charles said with a puzzled frown. 

"Oh! Right. That's kind of my nickname for Magda. Fuggo and Muggo." Erik laughed, a little nervously.

"She calls you Fuggo?" Charles' ire was rising again. "How did _that_ nickname originate?"

"Oh, it was..." Erik hesitated. "You know what, it's not a very nice story."

_I bet it's not,_ Charles thought. He wondered if he would be able to keep from slapping Magda if he ever met her. Raven used the term 'fuggo' and for her it was a contraction of 'fucking ugly'.

"Will you go with me?" Erik asked. Charles was so caught up in rage against Erik's wife that he had to rewind the conversation to remember what Erik was asking about. 

"I'm...ah...honestly, a little uncomfortable with that, Erik," Charles said slowly to his married friend, although a part of his brain was screaming at him that he was an idiot. Or maybe it wasn't his brain. 

"You could bring your boyfriend," Erik said quickly. "I don't mean—well. I just don't know anyone who is gay or bi besides you. I'd rather not go alone."

The mention of Scott caught Charles by surprise again. "Oh, that wasn't—I just—I don't want to—" _facilitate you cheating on your wife,_ he was going to say, but he swallowed instead. 

"Please say you'll go with me?" Erik's eyes looked gray and supplicating in the dim environment. "It's probably the only chance I'll get to have a Saturday night out. If it makes you feel better, I plan on going whether or not you do," Erik added, with a determined lift to his chin. "I'd just rather you were there."

That actually did make a difference to Charles. If Erik was going to go to a gay bar anyway...Charles certainly didn't want to miss it. "I'll go with you," Charles said, smiling in spite of himself as Erik pulled a victory fist in towards himself. 

**

"Raven, she calls him _Fuggo,"_ Charles said when Raven answered. They had long since dispensed with pleasantries like greeting each other when they spoke on the phone. 

"No she doesn't," Raven said in disbelief. 

"She does, and he seems to think that's okay," Charles said, stewing. "Oh, and he's bi."

Raven yelped. "What! You buried the lead!"

"We've been on the phone _one second,_ Raven," Charles said impatiently. "Anyway, I _did_ lead with the more important information. It doesn't matter that he's attracted to men if he's still _married!_ He's apparently married to a monster, but that doesn't make cheating okay...does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Raven said, and Charles closed his eyes in relief at being validated...although there was a pinch of disappointment. 

"I think he's attracted to me," Charles said. It was the first time he'd voiced the thought, even to himself.

"Charles," Raven said sharply. "Do _not_ be a homewrecker."

"I'm not!" Charles yelped indignantly, because really, he had been trying _so hard_ to avoid being exactly that. "He wants to go to a gay bar with me. I told him no."

"Good," Raven said approvingly. 

"Thenhesaidhewouldgowithorwithoutmesonowi'mgoing," Charles said very quickly. He cringed and held the phone away from his face in anticipation of her reaction.

The explosion didn't come. "Fine," Raven said with a hugely theatrical sigh. "Don't come crying to me when he kicks you aside to go back to Mrs. Monster."

"It's not like that," Charles said firmly. _Although if I hear one more terrible thing she's said or done to Erik, I may reconsider,_ he thought. He didn't say that to Raven though, out of fear that she would call him a homewrecker again.

********

Charles and Erik decided to meet at their corner (the one that Erik always turned off at when they walked home from their chess game nights) and take a cab to the gay bar. Charles chose it, of course; he picked a place where Erik would get a lot of attention, because he felt Erik still didn't understand how hot he was. He deliberately chose a different bar than the one he'd met Scott at, because he didn't really feel like dealing with that whole situation quite yet. He had a feeling Scott felt the same, since they hadn't communicated at all in over a week.

Charles arrived at the corner first, and he literally bit his fist in sexual frustration when Erik walked up a few minutes later. Erik was wearing tight gray jeans and a tight black T-shirt that showed off his wide shoulders, narrow hips, and the fact that he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. He was clean-shaven and looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a magazine. Charles might have made a small whimpering sound before he took his fist out of his mouth.

Erik took one look at Charles' face and then followed his eyes to his own chest. He shook his head and turned around, looking miserable. "I can't pull this off, can I? This was a stupid idea. I'm sorry. I'll go change."

"Erik," Charles said more sharply than he intended. "Don't you dare change your clothes. You look...good. Very, very...good." Charles was wearing black jeans and a blue button-down silky shirt that he was told made his eyes look amazing. He thought they probably made an attractive couple and immediately forced the thought out of his mind. 

"I mean, I just thought this might, you know, fit in," Erik said awkwardly, tugging his T-shirt down. It kept rising and showing an absolutely delicious strip of flesh above the waist of his jeans. "I'm not trying to make anyone—uncomfortable."

"You're only going to make people uncomfortable in a good way," Charles commented as he turned to flag down a cab.

********

The club was loud, of course, as such clubs usually were on Saturday nights, and absolutely packed. Charles was not surprised that both he and Erik were checked out by no less than a dozen men within seconds of walking through the door, nor was he surprised when the eyes that landed on Erik tended to stay there. 

Erik, however, seemed oblivious to the gazes of the bar patrons, and not as intimidated as Charles was afraid he might be. He looked around curiously at everything: the one wall where a porno was being projected; the mural of a naked man painted on an oyster shell at the far end of the bar; the two soaking wet men wearing very little and each dancing in his own cage on either end of the bar.

"Do you want a drink?" Charles shouted into Erik's ear. It was the only way to be heard. 

"Yes, but my treat," Erik yelled back, or at least that's what Charles thought he said. Erik made his way to the bar and Charles was right behind him until a tall man cut directly in front of Charles to talk to someone else, and then didn't move. Frustrated, Charles went around him and ran smack into his friend Angel—of course spilling her drink all over her. 

"Charles!" she shouted (laughing, Charles was glad to see). She took off her drink-soaked white T-shirt to reveal a black halter top beneath.

"Angel, I'm so sorry," he shouted. "Buy you another?"

"Okay," she said with a grin. "Hey, what are you doing here? This isn't your scene!"

Charles was tired of shouting, so he just put his hands on her tattooed shoulders and directed her to face the bar, where Erik was standing with men on either side of him trying to talk to him simultaneously. 

She whistled. "Damn! Does he like girls?"

"No," Charles lied, and headed determinedly towards the bar because a small path through the crowd had opened up.

Erik had his left hand on the bar, his back to Charles, apparently trying to attract the attention of the one man near him who was not focused on his every move (the bartender). A muscled blond man wearing a tight red T-shirt was standing behind Erik, talking far too close to Erik's left ear while leaning his front into Erik's back. At the same time, a burly lumberjack wearing a red-and-white plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off was facing Erik, leaning against the bar and grinning lasciviously while he said something. Charles pressed his lips together and squeezed between Erik and the lumberjack, surprising both of them. He faced the bar instead of facing either of them, and somehow managed to ignore how the position made his hip rub up against Erik's front almost indecently. 

But his timing was good, as the bartender walked up right then. He raised his eyebrows at Charles in the age-old language of bartenders asking _What will you have?_

"Apple martini and dirty vodka martini," Erik yelled at the bartender before Charles could say anything. Erik did not seem to mind the proximity at all, and was, if anything, pressing closer to Charles. 

Charles had not told Erik what drink to order for him, but he remembered telling Erik a few weeks before that he drank apple martinis when he wanted to forget. Erik's hand landed on the back of Charles' shoulder blade and stayed there. Charles saw the blond man behind Erik looking a little disgruntled and apparently trying to silently communicate something to the lumberjack guy over Erik's shoulder.

Their drinks arrived. Erik exchanged a credit card for his drink and waved at the bartender to keep it—bartender sign language for 'hang onto it because I'll be buying more drinks.' Charles did a 180 with his apple martini in left hand, so his back was against the bar and his right hip was now pressing against Erik's...well, he didn't want to think about what it was pressing against. But the lumberjack was still looking at Erik like he was trying to decide if he wanted to eat him rare or well done, so Charles snaked his arm around Erik's waist. The side effect of doing that was that it forced the blondie behind Erik to give him some more space as well. 

"Charles, this is Logan and Alex," Erik said during a rare lull in the music so he didn't have to yell. He did, however, move close enough to Charles' to say it that Charles could feel the warmth of his breath on his ear.

"Hello," Charles said to Logan, meeting his eyes in a challenge, snuggling closer to Erik. He ignored Alex completely and sipped his drink.

Erik tipped his head to bring his mouth closer to Charles' ear. "I was not expecting this," he said. Erik shot Charles a grin that was both happy and a little smug as he sipped his drink.

Charles wasn't sure what thing specifically Erik was referring to: Charles acting possessive (because yes, he was, he knew that, and he rationalized it by telling himself that he was protecting Erik from the lechers surrounding them) or if he meant getting such intense interest from other men. 

Before Charles could think of a way to respond to Erik's words, the music changed and Erik gasped and looked at Charles. "I love this song! Do you want to dance?"

Charles’ eyes widened in panic. He was extremely self-conscious about his dancing, although the dance scene was one of the things this particular club was best known for. In fact, that was why he rarely came here, and why Angel knew that it wasn't his scene. 

Speaking of Angel...Charles heard someone shout his name and sure enough, it was Angel, about twenty feet away, holding up both of her drinkless hands with an exaggerated pout on her face. 

"You should finish your drink quick if you want to dance," Logan suggested to Erik, a glint in his eye. "You don't want to leave a drink unattended here."

Charles narrowed his eyes at Logan, but Erik was already slamming back his martini. That was when Charles noticed for the first time that evening that Erik wasn't wearing his wedding ring. 

Logan and Alex walked towards the dance floor as Charles tried to process the new information. Was it significant? Did it change anything? Erik put his empty glass on the bar a little harder than necessary and gave Charles a huge grin. He caught Charles' hand and started backing away from the bar, towards the dance floor, lightly tugging on Charles' hand and giving him an imploring look. 

Angel suddenly appeared next to Charles at the bar. "Yo, daddy-o. Where's my drink?"

Erik's eyes flickered to Angel and he frowned in confusion. "I'll be right there," Charles told Erik, letting go of his hand. Erik nodded, still seeming confused. 

It took a minute to get the bartender's attention again. By the time Charles had done so and had purchased the requested amaretto sour for Angel, the dance floor was packed, and he had to scan the crowd for Erik. 

When he finally saw him, a bolt of ugly jealousy shot through him. Erik was sandwiched tightly between Alex and Logan with Logan at his back this time and Alex in front, both of them facing him. And from the look on Erik's face, he was loving every second. One of his hands was clenching Logan's thigh and he was looking hotly at Alex, their faces inches apart. 

Charles' jealousy turned to a sick feeling as he stared at the trio, who were apparently oblivious to his gaze. Those men didn't know that Erik was married...and by not wearing his ring, Erik clearly didn't want them to know. 

_It's not fair,_ Charles thought, feeling like a petulant child. _It's not fair that I’m trying to do the right thing by Erik's marriage when he is not, and perhaps even _should_ not, given how his wife treats him._

Charles abruptly realized that he was done for the evening. He was done with the stupid club with its loud music and its sexy men who had no reason, that they knew of, to stay away from Erik. He started walking determinedly towards the closest exit, ignoring everyone else, ignoring what sounded like his name being shouted. 

The cool evening air was a relief. He had to walk down a long alley to get back to the street, but it was better than fighting through the sticky bodies and loud music of the club. He started walking quickly, his head down. He wished he hadn't abandoned his drink at the bar; he felt far too sober, and overall it was an evening he'd rather forget.

"Charles!"

Charles ignored the voice, even though a part of him was happy to hear it, because he was equally disgusted to hear it. _I am too good for him anyway,_ Charles told himself, shivering as an icy breeze swept by. _He's willing to cheat on his wife. I would never do that to a spouse, no matter what._

"Charles!" Erik caught up to him then and put a hand on Charles' shoulder. Charles reluctantly turned to face him, trying not to notice how attractively flushed his cheeks were or how sexily mussed his hair was. 

"Are you leaving? Why?" Erik asked, frowning in confusion.

"I have no reason to stay," Charles said, walking backwards and holding his hands out for a moment, before he turned away from Erik again, still walking. "You clearly don't need my help to get by in a gay club." 

"Charles, I—please wait. I wanted to dance with _you_!"

"Well, you shouldn't!" Charles snarled, turning so suddenly that Erik took a startled step back, nearly stumbling against the brick wall of the club exterior. Charles stepped closer, anger flaring in him, white hot. "You shouldn't want to dance with me and you shouldn't have other men's hands all over you! You're _married_ , Erik!" The last words were snarled inches from Erik's face, and for some reason he was staring at Erik's lips and how they were slightly parted in surprise.

And for some reason he didn't move, trembling with anger, at least he thought it was anger, because he couldn't think of another reason he might be trembling. He couldn't think at all, actually, which was funny because he really hadn't had that much to drink, and Erik was looking at his lips and that made him excited and happy and scared and then Erik was leaning closer and Charles knew what was going to happen next and he couldn't let it.

"No," Charles whispered, turning his head to the side. He took a shaky step back from Erik, shaking his head. "I can't, Erik."

"I'm sorry," Erik said immediately. "I know you don't—like me—that way. I shouldn't have done that."

Charles wanted to tell Erik he had it all wrong, but didn't trust his voice—he was afraid the moment he started to speak, he would beg Erik to kiss him. 

"Jesus." Erik squatted down and put his face in his hands. "I can't believe I fucked up my one actual friendship," he said through muffled fingers. 

Charles' anger evaporated as he looked down at Erik for a long moment. "You didn't fuck anything up," he finally sighed, sitting on the ground next to Erik. 

"I fuck everything up," Erik muttered. "Can't do anything right. Just ask—" he swallowed suddenly, almost convulsively. 

Charles thought the rest of that sentence was probably '—just ask my wife.' He looked at Erik for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons of what he wanted to ask before he spoke. "Are you really happy in your marriage, Erik?"

Erik sank down out of his squat so he was sitting next to Charles and leaning his back against the building. He took some time before replying. "I don't know? Marriage is supposed to be hard, isn't it? How do I know if mine is harder or easier than anyone else's?"

Charles contemplated that. "Do you know other people who are married? Do you two have married friends?"

Erik shook his head. 

"What about your parents?" Charles asked. 

Erik shook his head and looked away. 

Charles wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but apparently they weren't marriage role models.

Just then, Logan appeared down the alley at the club's back door. "Hey, are you two coming back in?" he asked.

"No," said Charles, while Erik simultaneously said, "Yeah."

"Alrighty then," Logan said, clearly confused. He went back inside. 

Some of Charles' anger had returned, sparked by seeing Logan. "You don't seem to be acting much like a married man tonight. Would your wife be okay with this? Would she be fine with you letting gay men touch you and rub up against you?"

"Probably not," Erik admitted after a moment. "But nothing I do makes her happy, so it's hard to know where to draw the line."

Charles stared at Erik until the other man said, "What?"

Charles shook his head. "I just don't understand why you're with her."

Erik stared at the ground in front of him. "I made a commitment. She's the only family I have."

"A commitment shouldn't feel like a life sentence."

When Erik didn't respond, Charles snuck a glance at him, figuring he had finally crossed the line. But Erik looked deep in thought, his brow furrowed. 

"It's not my place to tell you how to run your life or your marriage," Charles said softly. "And I honestly hope you have fun tonight, but I’m going to go home right now."

"Wait, please," Erik said, standing. He offered a hand to Charles and pulled him to his feet as well. "I need to close my tab, but I'd like to share a cab home with you? I promise I won't try to kiss you again."

It was almost physically painful, that Charles couldn't say what he wanted to in response to that. Instead, he just nodded, and Erik literally ran inside. Charles had just enough time to wonder how long he would be willing to wait for Erik to come back when the man reappeared, moving quickly. He smiled at Charles and they wordlessly started walking towards the street together.

They caught a cab easily and when it reached Erik's stop, he leaned over and kissed Charles on the cheek, quickly, as if he was afraid he would be reprimanded, before he slipped out the door. 

********

"Charles," Raven said seriously, as they ate lunch together on Sunday. "You've been going back and forth about this all day. I'm convinced. His wife is an asshole who doesn't deserve him. You should go for it. Kiss him. Or whatever."

Charles side-eyed his sister. "What happened to 'don't be a homewrecker, Charles'?" he said, mimicking her voice.

Raven snorted at Charles' impression of her as she munched on a french fry. "Like I said, you've convinced me. His home is already wrecked. If it's not your dick he sucks, it's going to be someone else's."

Charles made a face at Raven for her word choice, and she just grinned at him, swinging her legs like someone much younger. 

"I appreciate your support, Raven, but..." he shook his head. "He hasn't said anything to me about wanting to leave his wife. He said he's committed. And if he wants to make it work, despite everything else...I just can't be the person who gets in the way of that."

Raven smiled at him, in what was for her a rare moment of calm affection. "I know," she said softly. "And I thought me saying that might show you how you really feel about it all."

Charles thought about that, looking at his sister, and then laughed a little. "You do know me pretty well."

"I do," she agreed. "I'm pretty sure you are literally incapable of doing anything but what you know is the Right Thing."

Charles thought about that. He felt pretty close to throwing his moral code out the window sometimes when it came to Erik. "Maybe. But if I hear about his wife being cruel to him again, if it happens—"

"If it happens one more time," Raven finished with him, with a wry smile. "Sure, Charles."

**

The next evening, Charles got to the bar first, which was rare; usually Erik arrived first. He ordered a beer and sipped it slowly; he thought it was probably best if he only drank the light stuff around Erik from now on. 

It was almost twenty minutes after their usual meeting time before Erik walked in. He was in a rumbled gray suit, he hadn't shaved, and his eyes were bloodshot. Charles had never seen him look that bad, and he stood in alarm as Erik approached their usual table. 

"Erik, what—I—how are you?" Charles said lamely.

Erik shook his head, not looking at Charles, sitting down heavily. "It's been a rough couple of days." He caught the gaze of a server passing nearby. "Four shots of tequila," Erik said to the man. 

Charles’ eyes got wide and he slowly sat back down. "Rough? Why?"

"I just—" Erik swept a hand through his hair in agitation, and by the look of his hair, it wasn't the first time he had done it that day. "Magda's been cheating on me."

Charles held very, very still. He tried to think of something he could say that would be true and still not be horribly inappropriate. He considered and quickly discarded _'I'm sorry to hear that', 'I'm happy to hear that,'_ and _'ditch the bitch and make the switch.'_ "Are you alright?" he finally settled on. 

Erik exhaled hard and shook his head. "That's not even the—well, maybe it is the worst part, but the way she told me and the reason she gave me..." Erik pressed his lips together. "What you said, before...you were right. Even if it's true, there's no need to be cruel."

"Even if what's true?" Charles said softly, wondering if Erik would finally say that his wife had done something horrible enough that Charles felt he needed to take action. Even though he still didn't know what that action would be.

"She said...she said I don't satisfy her. That I can't, because I'm not...enough." Erik looked at Charles for the first time since he'd arrived, searching Charles' eyes for comprehension. 

But Charles didn't comprehend. He shook his head. "You're not enough? She needs—other lovers?"

"She said my—" Erik swallowed and looked down. He mumbled the next words so quietly that Charles had to strain to hear them. "My cock isn't big enough."

"Your—" Charles was speechless for a moment. "That's horrible, Erik. That's a horrible thing to say, and I'm sure that’s not true at all. I'm sure that—what you have—is more than adequate. Even if it is smaller than average, well, I can assure you that size isn't everything."

"Will you look at it? Would you tell me if it's true?" Erik was looking at Charles intensely, his bloodshot eyes pained. "I don't have anything to compare it to. I've never seen another one—at least, not hard."

Charles was too amazed by the second half of what Erik said to focus on being scandalized by the first half. "You've never—? You've watched pornography, haven't you?"

Erik shook his head. "Magda—"

"Magda doesn't like it," Charles said with Erik. Charles felt both elated and resigned as he thought about what Erik had requested of him. He wasn't naive; he knew where this could go. And yet, Magda had done _another_ horrible thing to Erik, and Charles had said...

"Alright," Charles said, interrupting Erik, whom Charles hadn't noticed had started talking again. 

Erik stopped immediately. "Alright what?" he said.

"I'll...look at your penis," Charles tried to say with as little awkwardness as possible. "I'm sure it's perfectly normal, but if you still want me to, I'll, um, give you my opinion."

Several emotions shot across Erik's face at once. "Thank you," he breathed. "Maybe it's stupid, but...I need to know."

Charles stood up. "Let's go, then. I'll lose my nerve if we wait."

Erik's eyes widened and he rose and followed Charles to the men's restroom. Fortunately it was a clean bathroom, or Charles might have called the whole thing off. He headed to the stall farthest from the door and Erik followed him in. 

Charles took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, trying to act as matter-of-fact as possible. "Let's see what you've got."

With hands that trembled only a little, Erik unzipped his pants and pulled his flaccid cock out through the flap in his boxer briefs. 

Charles had honestly been braced for something small, so he was pleasantly surprised to see that Erik's penis was quite normal in size, perhaps even a bit larger than most. "Oh," he said. "That doesn't look bad at all! Although, what really matters is the size when it's erect."

Charles looked at Erik expectantly, and Erik seemed to be concentrating. "I can't," he said. "It's not enough. I need the situation, the—"

"You can't what?" Charles asked, puzzled. 

"I can't make it hard right now," Erik admitted, his head dipped, with shame-flushed cheeks. 

"What, just by—thinking about it? Well, of course not," Charles said, although what Erik was saying couldn't be completely true, since his cock had plumped a little since he had pulled it out. "I could help you," Charles said, licking his lips subconsciously. 

"You could—" Erik's eyes got wide as Charles' implication struck him. "Charles—you would...?"

Keeping eye contact with Erik, Charles knelt down slowly until his face was level with Erik's crotch. He licked his lips again and looked at the cock, inches from his face and even plumper than it was a moment before. He was about to touch his tongue to that velvety surface when it crossed his mind—Erik was still married. He hadn't said he was leaving Magda. He was upset that his cock wasn't enough for her and if he cared so much what she thought— "I can't," Charles said. He looked up at Erik and slowly rose to his full height again. "I can't, Erik, I'm sorry."

Erik swallowed and closed his eyes. He nodded a little before he spoke. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know you don't like me—that way. I hope I didn't put you in an uncomfortable position."

"I don't like—what? That's not the problem, Erik. I like you every way it's possible to like someone, I think. The problem is that you’re still in a relationship."

Erik frowned. "No, I'm not. She left me."

Charles' jaw dropped and he spoke a little louder than was probably needed, considering their circumstance. "She _what_? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yesterday, and I did tell you, right after I asked if you would look at this." Erik gestured to his cock, which was more than halfway erect at that point, if Charles was any judge, and he had seen some cocks in his time. It was also quite a bit bigger than it had been while flaccid. 

"Well, you buried the lead!" Charles snapped and sank to his knees and sucked Erik's cock into his mouth. 

It was a mouthful, but Charles was never one to back down from a challenge. He was aware of Erik gasping and clutching at things—the little metal trash receptacle on the stall’s wall went tumbling down, but he finally had Erik's cock in his mouth after fantasizing about it for months, and he was reluctant to let it go. 

Finally he pulled off with a wet slurp and was pleased to see that Erik's cock was red and turgid. "Erik, you have a huge cock," Charles said happily, turning his gaze up to Erik. Erik looked dazed. He had accidentally ripped a button off his shirt and was sweating. 

"What—you—that—never before," he managed to say, gasping.

"Never gotten head from a man before?" Charles supplied with a grin. 

"Anyone," Erik gasped. 

Charles' eyes widened and he stood up slowly. He had never been a violent man, but he thought then that if he ever met Magda, he might have to reconsider that stance. " _Anyone?_ She never...? Oh, Erik. You have a beautiful and very large cock, my friend. It is an absolute waste if it’s not being sucked and fucked often."

Erik leaned into Charles suddenly and kissed him, desperately, hungrily. Charles returned his fervor and started to stroke that beautiful monster that Erik had not yet tucked away. "Thank you," Erik whispered into his mouth. "Even if it's not true. It's nice to hear."

Charles pulled back, abruptly cutting off the kiss. "Of course it's true!" He felt almost offended that Erik thought he was lying. 

Erik was at a loss for words. "I'm honestly happier that you like me," he said. "The other part is—harder for me to believe. It's not that I think you're lying," he said hastily when Charles opened his mouth. "I still just don't have anything to compare it to."

Charles narrowed his eyes at Erik. "You know you're making me bring out the big guns," he said, with one eyebrow raised. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out the same way Erik had, through his boxers. 

Erik took a step back and looked down, then back at Charles. "So that's—normal?"

"More or less, yes," Charles said, trying to not feel self-conscious about the size of his penis next to Erik's monster cock. "Like yours, it gets a little bigger when it's fully erect."

Erik's mouth started to curl up on one side as he slowly sank to his knees in front of Charles.

"Oh," Charles said faintly, when he realized what was happening. "Erik, you don't have to—"

"I want to," Erik said fervently, gazing at Charles' rapidly growing cock like it was dessert. He tilted his head to make eye contact with Charles. "Can I?"

"Yes, if you want, of course, but I—" Charles’ objections caught in his throat as Erik licked the head of his penis. The first few touches of his tongue were tentative, but they grew progressively more confident as Charles whimpered at the feel of Erik's tongue and warm breath on him. When Erik finally took Charles' cock completely into his mouth, he sucked it in one long slow gulp. Charles opened his eyes to look down and saw Erik gazing up at him. 

He nearly came right then, but forced himself not to. However, he put some gentle pressure on Erik's head to communicate that he wanted Erik to pull off, which he did. 

Erik stood up, immediately apologizing. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm sorry if I did. I never did that before."

Charles shook his head firmly and managed to find his voice again. "You didn't hurt me, Erik, you are lovely, absolutely fucking unbelievable. I almost came, that's why I stopped you."

Erik's eyes widened. "No shit?" He grinned widely and leaned to kiss Charles on the lips and then nuzzled his neck. "Can we do that some more?" he murmured. "I'm sure I will get better with practice."

Charles chuckled weakly and pulled Erik in by his lapels for a fierce kiss before he spoke again. "Yes. We should do that lots more. Both of us. It never hurts to get more practice. But not here. Let's go to my place." They left the stall together, Erik following Charles. 

Erik's eyes widened for a moment and he stopped Charles before they left the bathroom. "Wait, Charles—don't you still have a boyfriend?"

Charles laughed. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you. Scott dumped me via text message last night."

A slow smile crept across Erik's face. "How convenient."

"It really was," Charles sighed. They walked out of the bathroom together, and Charles waited for Erik to go and take care of his bar bill—the four shots of tequila were sitting on their chess table, untouched. After they had walked out the door together, Charles made sure nobody was within hearing distance before he asked in a low voice, "You don't still think you have a small cock, do you?"

"I don't know," Erik said honestly, walking besides Charles. "But as long as you like it—"

"I do," Charles said adamantly. 

"—then it doesn't really matter." Erik smiled and wrapped an arm around Charles. 

Charles realized that he had to ask the question he was dreading the most, before this went any further. "And you don't want to...save your marriage? You don't want to reconcile with Magda?"

Erik shuddered and shook his head as they reached the place they usually split and went their different ways. "God, no. She was horrible to me."

Charles nearly choked on his own saliva. "Well, I'm glad you finally realized it!"

Erik smiled. "I had a bit of an epiphany when she told me about her lover. That's where she was Saturday night, you know. Not at a convention like she told me. She and her lover got a hotel room here in town. Anyway, I felt smaller and smaller as she was telling me that she _literally needed_ someone else to fuck her. She said I just couldn't do it right because of my 'pinky winky'."

Charles started to speak but Erik put a finger on his lower lip. "It's ok," he said gently. "Because the next thing she said was that she was leaving me and moving in with her boyfriend. In that moment, Charles, I felt—lighter. I felt free! And a lot happier than I've felt in a long time. The only thing ruining it was thinking that if I really did have a small dick...maybe you wouldn't like me either."

"I like you," Charles said firmly. "I like your dick, and it is definitely _not_ small. It's actually quite large. Do you know what a size queen is?"

Erik shook his head. "No. Is that a British thing?"

Charles stopped in the street and turned to face Erik. "We are going to have a lot of fun together," he said with a grin, and kissed him firmly on the lips. 

THE END


End file.
